Another day…

Josh here again:

Don’t worry, though, everything’s the same as yesterday for the most part.  The neighbor’s wireless is not acting the way it’s supposed to allow S. to post from the bedroom.  Her doctor called yesterday evening, and told her to take regular dosages of Nifedipine.  That seems to be controlling the contractions for the most part.  It’s causing a little dizziness, but nothing to be too concerned about yet.  This bed rest is really taking a toll on her hips, though.

I put together a hospital bag with pajamas, Puffins (the cereal, not the endangered relative of the penguin), two cans of Amy’s chunky tomato soup (so she doesn’t have to eat the horribly bland Campbell’s low-sodium tomato soup that they provide at the hospital), slippers, a brush, and, perhaps the most hopeful of items, a digital camera.

It’s really difficult to talk to people on the phone right now.  I don’t want to sound defeated, but at the same time, I want to convey how stressed out and anxious we both are right now.  I completely blew off my father’s attempts to call with a brief email that we’ve been in and out of the hospital over the past week, and I don’t feel like talking about how I’m trying to put together job applications at the same time.  Both he and my grandfather asked me when I’ll be applying for jobs roughly a week after Natan died, offering advise, which was completely ignorant of not only of our grief, but also of the job search itself.  In April, he asked why I sounded so sad on the phone, and I said something to the fact that, well, our son died not so long ago.  And instead of hearing “Natan,” he heard “Tom” (i.e., Tom the cat).  He was like, “Oh no, Tom died?”  No, Natan.  That’s going to be hard until you have another baby.  Another well-meaning friend of S.’s offered much the same consolation on the phone yesterday, referencing a friend that had a stillbirth baby, but who now has the opportunity to completely forget her grief due to the arrival of a live and healthy baby.  Obviously, I don’t need to criticize these two too much.  As I suggested, they don’t mean to sound so cold, and only wish to console.  Nor do I need to explain why I don’t think they are correct.  S. has written about this in the past.  But maybe it does explain why talking on the phone is difficult, especially, strangely enough, to people closest to me.  Everything they say can contain so much meaning, all of which is impossible to forget.

I cried so hard after reading S.’s last post, mainly because of the reference to “Brown.”  I don’t really think of Natan as “Brown,” ever.  But I cried because it reminded me of a time when I could feel so easy about the whole experience, when I could talk about becoming a father to random people, without launching into the large caveat when confronted with the standard upbeat statement, “You must be getting really excited.”

Anyway, I don’t need to make this my blog.  I was mainly trying to convey what I think S. was attempting to do when her computer erased it.  You’ll hear from her soon, I imagine.